


Baa, Baa, Blonde Sheep...

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mayhem (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self-Harm, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: "Do it. Do it, Pelle." Øystein wouldn't stop saying it.
Relationships: Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth/Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin
Kudos: 10





	Baa, Baa, Blonde Sheep...

"Do it. Do it, Pelle." Øystein wouldn't stop saying it. He was practically chanting it, like a broken record, stuck on repeat, doomed to imitate his last words until eternity broke. "Do it. Why won't you do it?" Øystein asked, and he tilted his head, reaching out to lightly touch Pelle's cheekbone. His touch was deceptively gentle, yet firm, like a parent who was taking their unruly child by their shoulder. 

Per hesitated, and he did not know why. A small part of him wanted to say no, because Per was strong. He wasn't that weak child on the playground anymore, he was an adult, but Per felt small and weak, and in front of Øystein's harsh, black gaze, Per felt terrified to disobey. He took a deep, shuddering breath. 

"Well?" Øystein said. "What, are you scared? Baa, baa, blonde sheep, cut your little wrist. Or are you going to keep being such...a...little...bitch?" His lip curled into a small little snarl that looked more like a grin than it should've. Øystein flicked the side of Per's head, making him flinch and recoil backwards. 

"No, no, nej, jag är ledsen...I'm sorry." Per raised the knife with a single, shaking hand. He saw his reflection, a glint of light. Per felt his chest shudder with one more breath, before he lowered the knife and dragged the jagged blade across the soft skin of his wrist. 

The skin broke open, and blood, so dark that it appeared black, bubbled up and spilt down from the broken edges of his wrist. Per watched as it slid down his pale skin, down onto the tile, so lazily that it was like water spilling forth from the rims of a bathtub. It hurt, burned, in the vaguest of ways, distant, as if it was hurting through a veil. 

Øystein had his eyes closed. He tossed his head back, mouth agape, and groaned, before leaning foward to grab Per by the back of his head and forcing him foward. Øystein tasted like meat and smoke, and Per felt like gagging. 


End file.
